The life she leads
by kirsty.halliwell1
Summary: Ella Evans moves from a small town in North West England to the City of Toronto, Canada, in the hope that she can overcome the demons that have been chasing her all of her life. She is tortured by her dark past and consumed by the profound belief that she is beyond all hope of redemption, that is until she meets Ryan, a PhD student, and that's when everything changes for Ella..
1. Section 1

"…Miss Evans?"

Professor Jason Forster's voice carried across the seminar room to the attractive blonde woman who was seated at the back. Lost in thought, she kept her head down as she scribbled furiously in her notebook, oblivious to the fact that the entire class had their eyes on her, before swinging their glances back to the professor who stood impatiently at the front of the room, silent, scowling at her.

He stood there, his scathing demeanour contrasted sharply with the overall symmetry of his features, his large, expressive eyes made him stand out as ruggedly handsome. He began grinding his lower lip in between his teeth as he grew ever more distressed, he was used to extending control over everything and everyone in his path, so this was a first for him

"_Ahem.."_ a modest cough escaped the lips of the broad shouldered man sitting next to her, before flicking his eyes to the front of the room and back, grabbing her attention. She followed his gaze and stared up into a pair of piercing blue eyes that bore into her very soul.

"Are you with us now? I expect an answer to my question if that isn't too much to ask of you?" His tone glacial, like his eyes.

A laugh escaped from the brown-eyed girl sat in front of the professor, before quickly disguising it as a cough.

She swallowed noisily before apologising.

"I'm sorry, could you please repeat the question?" She hesitated.

"See me in my office after class. Class dismissed, thank Miss Evans on your way out, I will forward extract three to you via the campus email, please annotate the sheets for your own use before bringing them to next weeks seminar."

She continued scribbling into her notebook angrily, he'd just humiliated her in front of her peers, rather than letting them see the tears that pricked her eyes, she kept her head down, swallowing back the lump in her throat.

"Hey don't worry, it's alright, he's like that with us all – except I usually see the brunt of it, being his assistant," He smiled down at her.

"Assistant?" She looked puzzled. He didn't look _that_ old.

"Well he's helping me out with my dissertation, are you an undergrad? I'm his only PhD Student. Ryan-" He rolled his eyes as if to exaggerate his distaste for having to work with such an abrasive fucker and held his hand out to hers.

"I'm er, Ella! And yeah I just transferred from Magdalen College.. in Oxford." She extended her hand to his; her small, fragile body shook at the enormity of the shake before he let go and stared at her intently.

"So you're from Oxford? What are you doing moving from _there_ to _here, _of all possible places in the world_?_" He looked down onto the small, fragile girl in front of him who looked much like a tired little lamb and snaked her satchel off her arm and threw it over his own.

"I fancied a change of, er, scenery, it's nice here, I guess. Are you from around here?" She looked down at her feet as she spoke her final words.

"No, I'm from Mundare, but I moved here for the PhD a short while ago. I love it here. If you ever need a friendly face to show you the sights then I would be more than happy to show you around sometime, what d'ya think?"

"I'd like that. Do you know where the Professor's office is?" She stared down at her feet and rubbed the soles of her shoes together.

"Down the corridor, take a right, then another left and his office is in the centre, grey door.. Hey,if he's too hard on you, come find me and I'll have a word, he can be difficult, hence why he doesn't have too many students." He winked at her, slipped her satchel back over her arm and then continued down the corridor in the opposite direction.

As she rounded the corner, she saw that the Professors office door was ajar. She stood in front of the opening nervously, straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath and strolled into his office without a second thought.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Her voice trembled before slumping her shoulders and stared down at the worn soles on her converse.

"Take a seat, Miss Evans." Professor Forster glared at her, his eyes full of contempt before he waved her to a chair seated in front of his desk.

CHAPTER TWO:

Ella left Professor Forster's office a short while later, tears welling up in her eyes, she'd just sat there whilst he threw blows at her every insecurity and demanded to know every detail of why she'd been transferred, when she refused to cooperate, he'd told her he would have to find her a new supervisor. _That_ stuff was absolutely none of his business, she moved away to forget all of that, to forget _him_.

Ella was a young woman of few words. Her shyness was not her primary characteristic but one that dominated her personality, she was compassionate woman with heavy values in life, she hadn't inherited either of these traits from her parents, her father was an alcoholic who spent all of his money on cigarettes and beer, and her mother was a woman of few words, but was well-known and generally liked.

As Ella plugged her earphones in and began running off campus into the high street her phone began to buzz, she looked down to see her mother's photo flash up on the screen, she contemplated ignoring the call as her mother would have been able to sense the sadness in her voice due to the swelling of the lump that had been left in her throat, but she decided against it and picked up the phone enthusiastically trying to sound cheery.

"Hey mum, are you alright?" Her voice refusing to cooperate with what her mind wanted her to sound like, she sounded shaky and tired instead.

"Don't you worry about me, how are you? Are those americans treating you well?" Her voice, sentimental and comforting, warmed her like a blanket on a cold night.

She sighed. "Yeah, mum they're Canadian. My first day was.. Um, interesting I guess, but it's cool here mum, you'd love it and nothing like I expected, I'm glad I decided to come here." _Really? Is that the best you can do? You hate it, you want to jump on the next plane back._

Her mother didn't quite believe her, she never could be fooled by her youngest daughter, she could read her like a book. She cleared her throat and began frantically slurring her exaggerated words down the phone.

"Everyone is missing you, promise you'll visit when you get a break from it all?"

"Mum I only just came here, and you know I can't come back, not while things are like they are, I miss everyone like crazy, how is everyone?" She knew that her mum would never give up, but sooner or later, she'd learn that nothing was going to persuade her to go back home.

After she hung up from what seemed like an interrogation on her first day of the semester, Ella began to unpack the remaining boxes that lay scattered around her studio apartment.

CHAPTER THREE.

The next morning Ella set off for campus earlier than usual after a restless night's sleep, she put her iPod on as background noise, until their song came on; she quickly muscled the device out of her pocket and wrapped the earphones around it, shoving it into her satchel.

The September breeze was warm in Toronto, and she liked it. She liked the sunshine and friendliness of the Canadians. The streets were tidy and free of litter, which is not something she was used to back home. If I can even call it that anymore. She liked that she was thousands of miles away from him. She could only hope it would stay that way.

She eventually arrived into the office of the department of European History and began walking over to her mailbox when somebody gently tapped her on the shoulder.

"Ryan, hi! A Little lost there, sorry,"

He smiled down at her warmly; she was a sight for sore eyes, the top of her head barely ended where his pectorals started. He had the build of a sportsman.

"How was your meeting with the Prof?" His smile faded and he looked into her eyes with concern.

She bit her lip furiously. "It was, um.. Not great."

He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath, he wanted to teach that bastard a lesson for being so abrasive; he had no idea what kind of affect his temper had on his students.

His silence worried her "Are you, okay?"

He looked down at her nervousness and the way her eyebrows delicately arched at the bridge of her nose and secretly felt sorry for her.

"He's been having, err.. family troubles so I wouldn't take it personally, he's been out of sorts lately,"

He flexed up to his full height and straightened his shoulders before crossing his arms across his broad chest.

She smiled thinly and nodded in appreciation.

Ella stepped aside to empty her pigeon hole, what she saw made her heart jump, it was a letter, addressed to Miss Taylor Peters. FUCK!

She ripped up the envelope until all trace of the name had been shredded into a million pieces and threw it in the trash, shaking as she did so.

CHAPTER FOUR

She felt her heart plummet inside her chest, barging against her ribcage just begging to be freed. Her body shook as the impulses trembled through her veins. Tsunami sized shivers belted down her spine.

In this kind of situation there were only three things she could, first of all, she needed to find her emergency cash fund, secondly she needed to dig out her 'going out' clothes and finally, she needed to find a decent bar in this city and get drunk.

Whilst she walked slowly past all the shop windows it reminded her of home, all the quirky little gift shops and the old fashioned bars, but she was looking for something a little more up-tempo. The streets here were more than three times as wide and the buildings three times as tall.

She pulled her jacket tightly around her shoulders as the night's air her chest.

She spotted a bar on the opposite side of the street named 'Alley Catz', her face lit up as she crossed the block and hovered in the entrance, the bar looked flashy, golden chandeliers lit up the lobby, as she entered, somebody from behind grabbed her arm.

"I don't think so love, may I see your I.D?" He looked down at the young woman stood in front of him, her pale face and dark eyes looked up at him in shock.

"Um, sure.." She dug deep into all four pockets and gripped her Passport, flashing him a grin as if to say 'wipe that smug look off your face, ha!'

"Sorry ma'am, please follow me this way," He waved her in and sent her over to a flight of stairs next to the elevators, she was now regretting wearing her boots, she could NOT climb those stairs in these heels and there was no way she was taking the elevator, it was her number one fear after becoming trapped in one as a little girl in her father's apartment building, she was trapped for twenty minutes, but what felt like an eternity.

She took off the dark leather Gucci boots and climbed the three flights, panting as she reached the top, she fixed her boots up, smoothed down her pants and tshirt and walked into the bar, it was full of men dressed in dark suits, like something out of the matrix, what was this complex, Ella thought to herself, some kind of FBI meeting?

The door slammed closed and shook the room, everybody stopped what they were doing to look at the beautiful, blonde haired angel that had just entered the room, staring at her vacantly. She looked up into the eyes of what looked like a pack of hungry wolves that were ready to pounce.

She walked over to the bar and began to order.

"A single cranberry vodka, please."

A very handsome blonde-haired man leant against the bar where she was stood.

"Hi," he offered his hand.

"Hi," She managed to muster, feeling somewhat conspicuous.

"What's a lovely lady such as you doing drinking alone on such a fine evening?"

She thought about how such lines would have once impressed her; instead she drew her eyebrows together and waved over to the barman. "..Make that a double"

"Oh, I see," He spoke in a patronising manner.

"Yes, now if you'll excuse me, I prefer to drink alone."

"Well, if you change your mind, me and my friends have a table up front, we'd be more than happy for you to join us." He gestured vaguely over to a table near the dance floor, but Ella did not follow his gesture, so he strode back to his friends.

The barman smiled at her before leaning over the bar to whisper something to her, his lips hovered over her ear and his sweet breath lingered over her neck for a moment too long before gracefully pulling away and throwing her a wink.

Ella choked back a giggle before smiling at him and handing him a five dollar bill, he waved her aside and reassured her that it was covered.

The night soon passed with plenty of opportunity to join several men in their 'booths', but Ella showed little interest in their offers.

She grew ever more intoxicated before taking to the dance floor, spinning in circles before something caught her arm,

"Miss Evans?"

She looked up into the piercing blue eyes that stared down on her, a look of disgust washing over the gorgeous face that hovered in front of her own. Before heading to an abrupt halt.

"Get. Off. Me." She began to frantically shake her arm to get out of his ever tightening grip on her wrist.

The blonde-haired guy from earlier sprung to his feet and rushed over to the couple, who were stood arguing in the middle of the dance floor.

"Is this asshole hurting you?" He shouted over the music.

"Is this in your doing, did you get her this way? You fucker!"

"Fuck you Jason, how the hell do you even know this girl?"

"He's my, my, prof—" She was unable to finish her sentence, she felt her stomach churn and before she could say another word she vomited all over her professor, his dark Armani trousers and green cashmere sweater were suddenly covered in pink foam and grains.

He stared down into her eyes whilst cursing furiously under his breath, chewing at the insides of his cheek, furiously.

"Come, let's get you outside.. NOW!" He let rip and his face grew ever more ripe.

She followed his lead as he led her out of the club, he nodded at the security guard who had helped Ella into the bar and continued out onto the street.

"Do you feel like you're going to be sick again?"

She nodded and he led her over to a nearby flowerbed before she continued to throw up, the gardenias now a bright pink

"Christ, how much did you drink in there. Do you have any idea what kinds of people drink there?" She was surprised at how kind he and nurturing he was being, considering she had just threw up all over his crisp white shirt that was now a baby pink.

"I. Do. Now." She managed to spit out, she looked up into his eyes and arched her eyebrows together.

He held out his arm out in a gentleman fashion before she slipped her arm through his and she became locked against him. It was questionable who was leading who as she sloped down the street.

"Where do you live? … No, Miss Evans, wake up, now," He spat out, infuriated that he was escorting an intoxicated student home in the middle of the night.

"Jockey Heath building, Number 47,"

Professor Forster hailed down a cab and tried to shuffle her in with little joy, there was no way she was getting in his car like this, and it was certainly against the universities strict rules on professor-student encounters.

"I. Can walk. Please" Her speech slurred as the words refused to roll off her tongue.

"Get in, now... Jockey Heath please." John said to the cabbie.

He sighed, she looked beautiful in her rather slimming skin-tight, tie-dyed jeans and her high heeled boots even if she was covered in sick from the waist up, she looked almost angel-like.

They arrived shortly after at her apartment building, and the two of them exited the cab. It wasn't that far for the Professor to walk home, not something he planned on doing until he'd seen Miss Evans in her apartment safe and sound, he knew what it could be like around here at this time of night as he'd been accosted a few months back outside this very building.

She grabbed her bag in order to fish out her keys before struggling to pull back the zip, dropping her bag onto the floor; she bent down to pick up the contents before collapsing onto the pavement. The professor tried to hide his distaste and impatience and cursed under his breath before refilling her bag before snatching the key ring up out her hands and trying every key in the lock before he carefully opened the door and helped her in.

Before he had the opportunity to wonder if it was a good idea, he kicked the door shut behind him and glanced around her squalid little apartment and he soon discovered it wasn't such a good idea.

Looking around the small apartment he noticed it was unusually clean and tidy for what seemed to be such a reckless girl, the girl before him was nothing like the shuddering mess he had in his office only the day before. What happened? He stopped to consider that he was the cause for the state she was in but soon brushed it off.

Whilst his back was turned, she began unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down her legs, she then continued tugging the shirt over her head, however, it was a little more difficult than she had first anticipated. As the Professor turned back to her half he gaped at what he saw, the figure of a finely shaped woman stood before him, tugging at the t-shirt that was trapped over her head.

It really was quite funny so he silently stifled a laugh. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, taking a deep breath as he did so.

Her bare chest was an image of perfection, he'd always thought she'd had a skinny physique, especially when it had always been masked with baggy sweatshirts and t-shirts, but there was absolutely nothing skinny about this thing that stood half-naked in front of him, she was slender, her stomach toned, her arms were small yet muscular. Wow.

He walked over to her "Here, let me," he spun her around and began to tug at the tshirt, but what he saw stunned him speechless, underneath her right shoulder-blade was a scar that ran the length of her rhomboideus down to her serratus anterior. He began grinding his teeth against his lower lip in distaste, the urge to touch it fought against his own will as he began tracing the length of the scar with his fore-finger.

"Wh-What happened?" His voice trembled as he pulled away his finger and gently turned her around.

"Him," She looked up into his dark eyes and a picture of him flashed before her eyes in this same situation, grinning down at her. She trembled and staggered to her bedroom, locking the door behind her. In his absence, Ella had managed to stagger to the fur-draped bed that was in the corner of her bedroom and passed out face down.

He tugged his green cashmere sweater over his head and laid it over her counter top before studying her apartment thoroughly, she had photo's hung on almost every inch of the living space, small children were in almost all of the photographs, and there were many old fashioned photographs of a couple more often than not in a passionate embrace and then a few others of Ella in an embrace with a tall, dark haired man.

But the photographs were soon supplanted in his attention by something else, something even more surprising. He stared in shock as he spotted a rare medieval mural painting of Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore above her desk.

Her furnishings were all very dark, she had dark black-out roller blinds and red silk curtains, her furniture a dark chocolate colour draped in red throw overs and patch-work cushions. It was somewhat comforting to him.

He stood silently, wonderstruck at the revelation that he had underestimated Ella as being just another student, when in actual fact, it appeared there was more to her than meets the eye.

He walked over to her room and gently tapped on the door; he heard sniffles coming from inside the room. He peered through the door and saw her lying on the bed in the foetal position, swiping tears away from her eyes . As he looked down on this fragile woman, he felt a hint of sadness sweep over him, something he hadn't felt in a very long time. He strode to the side of the bed and shook his head, persuading her to lie under the sheets before covering her up. He sat down, watching her as she looked up at him with confusion in her eyes.

"Why did you drink so much?" He asked.

"To forget," She said, tipping her head back and resting it on the pillow before closing her eyes.

"Forget what?"

When she didn't answer he got up to leave, a warm hand darted over to him and grabbed his arm.

"Don't leave me," She breathed. Her eyes squinting at the street light that entered through the gap in the blinds. "Please."

"I'm not going to leave you. Please sleep, Ella." He squeezed her and a smile played across her perfect mouth before she drifted off to sleep, loosening the grip she had on his hand.

He looked down at the defenceless young girl that lay before him, there were secrets deep in her surface and he was desperate to learn of them, but right now, he was far too tired to question her, and so he moved the unruly strands of her from in her face and swept them behind her ear before retiring to an arm chair in the corner of her room before drifting off himself.

A few hours passed and the Professor was awoken by a large thud, he sprung to his feet and studied the room, it was still dark, he glanced at his rolex to see that it was 3 a.m. He'd been asleep for little less than an hour. Looking to the ground he saw Ella, laid there face down, he bent down and delicately places his strong arms underneath her before laying her in the centre of the double bed.

"You found me, I knew you would come back for me, Scott, oh Scott, I missed you." She tugged at Professor Forster's collar, pulling him closer. "I love you, please, don't leave me. Not again."

Scott? Her boyfriend? The guy from the photo? He left her? Is that why she's in such a state?

"No, it's me.. Miss Evans?" He shook her but she had already closed her eyes again and was unconscious.

He had experience with alcoholics before, and he knew that she would be hung-over and cranky when she awoke so he decided he had to leave before the night's events came to light.

CHAPTER FIVE

Ella awoke the next day at noon, her head throbbed, she felt like she'd just fought ten rounds with mike Tyson, her entire body ached as her brain clunked against her skull, the light that pierced through the blinds sent shivers down her spine. She sighed before crawling out of bed and padded to the bathroom holding her head and kicking the door behind her. She closed her eyes and leant against the counter top, swaying back and forth. When she opened them she saw the green cashmere sweater that had been left by her late night visitor. Clueless, she picked it up and brought it up to her face and inhaled the scent of the collar, it smelt of Ambre Topkapi, and she only knew what that smelt like because she'd once bought him a copy of it, that happened to smell like a tramps beard, this was the real deal. Mmm, pineapple, mango, mmm.

She stopped what she was doing, who did this sweater belong to? She noticed a splodge of sick on the front and began to vomit into the sink. Oh fuck, I brought somebody back like this?

She brushed her teeth and shoved her unruly hair into a bun before tip-toeing out into the corridor in search for the mystery owned of this expensive cashmere sweater, to her relief there was nobody to be seen, so she quickly discarded of the sweater into the laundry basin. Surely they'll want it back? She looked frantically through her cupboards in a desperate search for anything that contained pain-killing elements, racking her brains as to how she even got home last night. Thinking started to hurt after a while so she decided to stop before it did her any more damage, she'd woken up with sick in her hair and all over her bra, she hoped her mystery guest hadn't had to witness it, and if they did, she prayed to the gods-of-all-one-night-stands that she would never see them again.

That morning, Professor Forster looked back on the events of the night before and hoped, prayed even that Ella would not tell a soul what had happened, that was if she was even able to remember herself, she was in that much of a state.

He hoped he'd be able to catch her before his next seminar to discuss getting his sweater back and offering a helping hand, because god only knows she needed it. He strolled into his office that morning, pulled open his laptop and began printing several things out before heading to the student offices and slipping the pile of papers into Ella's pigeon hole.

Ella contemplated not going to campus but decided against it, she was keen to go and see the The Eaton Collection at the Toronto Culture Show on Saturday and hoped that Ryan would take this as an opportunity to show her around.

Ella arrived promptly for a lecture that was being given by Professor Lamont Radcliffe on Culture-historical Archaeology in the main lecture hall, she was surprised to see Ryan outside the hall, shouting down at his phone before slamming it down and furiously throwing it to the ground and stamping on it.

Ella looked down at the phone that was now shattered on the floor, underneath Ryan's foot, which must've been at least a size 11. Then she drew her eyes back up to his and saw him rubbing his eyes with his long fingers.

"Ryan? Are you, um, alright?" She gazed up at him through long eye-lashes trying to catch his attention.

"Ella, I'm sorry you had to see that," Tears began to fill his warm eyes.

She had no idea what to say, she'd never seen anyone like this before let alone a grown man, she offered her hand to him and he took it, she rubbed her thumb in circles against the back of his hand, "Do you wanna skip this lecture and go talk about it over a coffee? Heaven knows I need one."

"Heaven certainly does, an angel such as yourself," He smiled and she blushed a bright crimson.

"But before we do, I just need to check my pigeon hole,"

As they walked down the hall, Ella slipped her arm through Ryan's and smiled up at him reassuringly. Professor Forster appeared in the hall, looking tired with Prada Glasses covering up the dark purple rings around his eyes and he was somewhat very pale in comparison to his usual shade of a soft brown. She stared up at him, transfixed by him, if he was such an asshole she would probably have found him attractive, but his arrogance wrecked anything else he might have had going for him, even she couldn't argue that the warm frames of his glasses contrasted sharply with the hints of chocolate brown in his quiff and made him look even more bold and attractive.

She felt like she a connection for almost a second, and then it was gone, she shook her head in disapprovingly of her own sordid thoughts.

Professor Forster glared at Ella for a moment too long and then to the link the pair had joined with their arms, before looking back to Ella.

"Ryan.. Miss Evans." Expressionless he gazed into Ella's eyes for a moment and then spun on his heel and continued towards his office.

"What's his problem?" Ella giggled.

Ryan shrugged, turning around and staring at the Professor with distaste.

She checked her pigeon hole and found a few leaflets to various student events across town, deals and offers promising her a 2 for 1 offer at Pizza Hut and a a textbook labelled 'Binge drinking as escape for self-awareness'. She looked at the cover in amusement. How ironic.

As she flicked through the text-book she came across several leaflets, one for a local 'Alcoholics Anonymous' meeting and another leaflet with details of several local counsellors printed in big bold writing and an article, she read the first paragraph before spinning around, looking around the room in dismay. It read:

This article proposes that binge eating is motivated by a desire to escape from self-awareness. Binge drinkers suffer from high standards and expectations, especially an acute sensitivity to the difficult (perceived) demands of others. When they fall short of these standards, they develop an aversive pattern of high self-awareness, characterized by unflattering views of self and concern over how they are perceived by others. Who the fuck left these? I don't understand? Did somebody from the university see me last night? Do they go here? Fuck.

He saw the frightened look on Ella's face and offered his hand to the leaflets, "What is it?"

"Nothing, just junk, I'm going to go freshen up, meet me out front in 5?" She shrugged and threw it in the trash can before walking off toward the door.

Ryan watched as the frightened little girl walked out of the door and he curiously wandered over to the trash, bending down and picking out the leaflets she had just thrown away. Funny, everyone usually gets the same leaflets, I don't have any of these. Probably just an undergrad thing. He shrugged it off and stood up, following in her footsteps and waiting out front.

Ella stood at the vanity in the ladies' room and studied herself intently before closing her eyes, tipping her head to each side and praying that she would remember who her mystery guest had been. A flash-back came to her, muffled in a dream state.

A tall, dark man stood over her whilst she lay there, his face was covered by the darkness, he had smooth hands as she felt his fingertips brush her hair away from her face and telling her he wouldn't leave.

Ella stood up, brushed her hair to one side, reapplied her make-up and then left the washroom, strolling past the offices she peered around each corner to see if the Professor was still hovering about. Phew, no sign of him.

"Miss Evans, is it?" Shouted a lady behind the admin desk, she wore a bright floral shirt that looked like Ella's grandmothers curtains and big, bold glasses that sat at the end of her nose.

"Yes?" Ella looked up at the woman who was now raising her eyebrows together.

"Professor Forster has asked me to schedule a meeting with you, is tomorrow afternoon a suitable time for you?"

"Er, what's it for, please?" She dreaded her response before it even escaped her lips.

"It's about your transfer—" She hissed.

"Okay, fine, what time?"

"Miss Evans, thankyou – you've saved me a lot of hassle. I will let him know, if you could meet him by his office at 3.15," She managed to stifle a giggle. "Enjoy your day!"

Hasn't he done enough damage for one week?

An hour later, Ella and Ryan found themselves in the Whalley Street Café, curled up like Egyptian cats on a red loveseat and talking about the days events. They were sitting close enough for comfort, but not too close. Close enough for them to talk privately away from the whisperers turning their heads, staring at the couple as if they'd just jumped off the front cover of a copy of Vogue magazine.

"I was going to ask if you fancied going to see a show with me this Saturday. Ella, ELLA? Hello?" He looked down at her beautiful brown eyes as he watched her stare into the high street, watching the rain droplets trickle down the window.

"I left my umbrella at home," She looked up at him with a hint of sadness and disappointment in her eyes.

He forced a smile and arched his eyebrows together and rubbed at the bridge on his nose, it looked like his nose was broken.

"So, what do you think? About Saturday?"

"Well actually, I was going to ask you, if you don't mind, taking me to see The Eaton Collection at the Toronto Culture Show on Saturday?" She looked up at him, hoping he would accept. "Or if you're busy, then, it's cool, I can er, go alone."

"Didn't you just hear a word I just said?" He laughed.

"Erm, no, sorry, what was it?" She looked down at her feet cursing herself under her breath.

"I invited you out to that exact show, this Saturday." He laughed out loud at how confused she looked and pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

She looked up into his friendly blue eyes that looked down on her in admiration, if she wasn't mistaken, he looked enchanted.

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about the works of Fitzgerald and Hemingway and E. E. Cummings before he offered to walk her back to her apartment, he hurried her down the street, placing his jacket over both their heads and making a run for it down the high street.

By the time they arrived at Ella's apartment they both resembled drowned rats. Whilst Ella dug around in her airing cupboard, she grabbed a few towels and strolled back into the living room, throwing him a towel and flicking the switch on her electric fire.

"Earl grey or Yorkshire?" Ella flashed Ryan a grin.

"Earl what what?" He closely knitted together his eyebrows in surprise.

"Tea? Earl grey is stronger and Yorkshire is a little weaker.."

"Erm, the first one then, please."

Looking around the apartment, it was both painful and demonising. He noticed a sketch of the duomo in Florence hanging from her fridge before hunching his back and moving in for a better look.

"Did you do this?" He traced the inscription at the bottom with his fore-finger before glancing down at her.

"Um, yeah do you like it?" She flushed crimson.

"Are you kidding? I love it, you never told me how talented you were, Miss Evans," He winked at her with a wry smile etched across his smooth red lips.

"You never asked, besides, I have tonnes more if you wanna look?"

"Of course I do!"

He continued to scan her small apartment whilst she dug through box after box in order to find her sketch books, he observed that she had a large book case that boasted with many volumes, in English, Italian and German. He was impressed that she possessed such fine materials.

"Found it," She screeched, shoving a thick leather backed journal into the air. "Do you mind looking through on your own whilst I just run and get changed?"

Ryan scanned the pages of Ella's sketch pad and words failed him, page after page was full of portraits and landscapes, several photos of young children smiling and laughing with glee.

Ella reappeared in what looked like a gym kit – a black hoodie and tight Nike bottoms that hung low on her hips. She'd shoved her hair into a one-sided plait and knotted it neatly at the bottom with a rubber band. Even in such casual wear, she was absolutely stunning, breathtakingly attractive.

He looked up at her, taking every inch of her fine figure in before swallowing deeply and collecting himself up of the sofa, "Ella, these are amazing, have you ever sent them off to exhibits or competitions?"

She looked down on him, shocked, she had never received this reaction before, only from him, and it turned out he'd only been saying that to get her into bed.

"I never thought they were good enough, and I don't know how to do that," She smiled ruefully.

"Are you—kidding? Ella these are amazing, especially this one—" He tilted the paper back and handed it over to her. "This captures the happiness in the little boys face, he seems truly at ease with himself, laughing and playing like kids should," he looked down at the photo in envy of the small child that lay across the page in front of him.

"That's my nephew, do you like it?" She blushed.

"Ella, I wont tell you again, these are amazing, I love them all, you are far too talented to be so humble," He laughed. "And the one of this guy here— it's just, incredible," He flicked to the middle of the pad and traced the outline of the man with his thumb, "who is he?".

Ella grabbed it out of his hands, "Err, nobody, just—".

"An ex boyfriend or current?" He rose one eyebrow at her reaction.

"No, I don't have a boyfriend," She chewed at her bottom lip before heading to the cupboards and trying to reach the top shelf on her tiptoes before clumsily knocking the entire shelfs contents onto the floor.

"Here, let me," he helped her up before hunching down, shovelling up the contents into the small pouch he had created by folding his t-shirt upwards, just over his belly button. Ella stood there looking down on this gorgeous man that knelt before her.

A similar situation flashed before her eyes, except now it was him down there, on his knees, begging for forgiveness, begging her 'please!'.

She shook off the thought.

"Hey thanks for the tea, this afternoon has been, um, fun," He blushed. Get a grip, you're a fully grown, 25 year old man, deep breaths, ah, calm.

"Anytime, let me know about Saturday, yeah?" She scribbled down her phone number before folding the small square and placed it in his big, tough hand. "If you can't get hold of a new phone by then, I'll probably catch you at tomorrow's seminar?

"Course." He smiled at her affectionately before grabbing his book bag and trying to shuffle himself into his jacket.

"You can't wear that—" she pointed out as it was still soaked. "Wait here," she ran to her bedroom before reappearing with a hooded Harvard sweater in her hands, it would fit over his broad shoulders if he was lucky. It pained her to hand it to him, but as long as he returned it, she didn't care.

"Here, wear this, so long as you give it me back then I'll dry your jacket and bring it with me tomorrow?"

He looked down into the eyes of this caring, compassionate young woman and smiled warmly at her, pulling her into an embrace, before whispering "You're lovely." He kissed her on the side of her cheek before ducking out into the hall, before she knew it, he was gone, along with the only remaining thing that she possessed that belonged to _him_.


	2. Section 2

As Ryan exited Ella's apartment building and began his long journey home, he clung onto her Harvard sweater and held it to his chest tightly and wondered why it meant so much to her. She'd more than hesitated when she'd handed it over and hung on to it for a second longer than necessary. _ It must have sentimental value_, he thought.

His thin, short sleeved shirt was soaked only five steps down the block, but the thought of even wearing out Ella's sweater with his broad shoulders in any way struck him hard, so instead of wearing it, he held his head down and broke into a run with the sweater huddled in his arms like a precious new born child.

He wondered who the portraits of the man had been in her sketchbook and thought of how delicately they had been sketched, they hadn't been like the others, it was like they were filled with tenderness, romance, like the work of a patient hand, like she had all the time in the world to give to this man, there was no rush in the strokes, only accuracy and precision.

About half a block from his apartment, Ryan's long, golden hair begun to plaster itself against his face, curling over his eyes. His shoes squished and squashed with every step, cars and buses sped by and tidal waves of dirty water swamped over him as his desperate attempt to jump out of the way of one small puddle landed himself in jumping into the line of an even larger one. This wasn't unusual for Ryan, life was just a series of jumping into the clutches of the devil, and every turn he took was guaranteed to be worse than the last. He'd had more than his fair share of near death experiences so catching pneumonia would be just another to add to that list.

_Swish, swoosh, splash. _

Another tidal wave covered Ryan, this time it covered his entire body, causing him to trip and drop Ella's sweater in the dirt, he quickly collected himself and scuttled it up into his arms again, cursing under his breath. _Fuck, shit, she's going to kill me, nice one. Great, you moron._

"_Asshole!"_ Ryan screamed, pulling out his middle finger and forking it into the air at the jaguar that had just swerved in-front of him.

"That's no way to speak to your professor," Professor Forster dipped his head out of the tinted windows of the monochrome Jaguar.

Ryan flicked the hair out of his eyes and slapped it back against his temples before running round to the passenger side.

"Hey I don't think so, you're not ruining my upholstery with those things—" The professor pointed at the blue dye that dripped from Ryan's dip-dyed jeans.

"Never mind your fucking upholstery, what about this?" He held Ella's sweater in the Professors face before cursing a little more.

"What about it?" He sniggered.

"I just fucking dropped it into that fucking mud bath because of you, that's what. She's going to kill me, and look at the state of my shoes, ugh." He closed his eyes and rested his head onto the dash.

The Professor swerved out into the traffic and headed down maine street.

"Who's is it? And what's with the hugging?" He nodded down to the sweater that Ryan cradled in his lap and rose his eyebrows as he spoke.

"It's.. Ella's, I stopped by hers to wait for the storm to subside but it only got worse, my jacket wouldn't dry, I smashed my phone, oh and then she gave me this to wear but it's too small," He huffed.

"Ella Evans? Have you been seeing her? No wonder it doesn't fit, she's barely a size 6," he laughed.

"Actually it's a mens 36, so shut it, and I think it holds some kinda sentimental value to her, that's why I need to get it cleaned up by tomorrow—"

"Sentimental how?" The professor arched his eyebrows in surprise before grabbing at the sweater and opening up the hood. "Hang on that's an original class of '99. I have that exact hoodie back home, strange, how'd she get hold of that? She'd need to have studied there around that time to get hold of that, and that would make her – ah – seven years old, right?" He laughed, but secretly wondered how she had possessed such an item.

"Child genius, perhaps? Anyhow, just kill it with the questions will you and drive, if you hadn't noticed, were in the middle of a torrential downpour and that doesn't look too great either." He pointed up to the dark clouds that hung low over the city's sky-line.

"Just check the initials on the label, if there are any," he asked urgently.

"S.R. Happy now?"

"Hmm, yeah I guess." _Scott Roberts? Surely not that douche bag._

Ella sat at home that night, alone in a bed that was far too big for two people, let alone for her own tiny, fragile frame, and scanned her emails, all of the same usual junk mail, including vouchers for a new salon in her home-town promising her the 'best treatment' of her life, the catch? Little fish nibbling at her feet AND she had to pay for it. It didn't sound that promising so she sent it straight to her Junk folder, before wondering what the difference between 'junk' and 'trash' really were, wasn't it all just the same anyway? She clicked on her her Junk folder and began scanning through the contents, until she came across an email that left her heart in her throat, she shot up onto the side of the bed, her legs dangling over the edge and she sat staring at the email before clearing her throat, stunned.

It read:

_Date: 12__th__ September, 2012. From: S.R Subject: URGENT_

I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but please, just hear me out, give me the chance to explain.

_I love you like you wouldn't believe; I need you, more than I need the air that I breathe. It's been too long, please contact me._

Yours, always.

S.R.

Ella awoke the next day at 8:30 and tried to sit up. Her body was gelatinous and her eyes were wild and loose in her head. The sun shone on her face, causing a throbbing pain behind her eyes. She swung her arm to steady herself and couldn't quite grab hold of the bed before she fell to the side. Ella resolved to fall asleep and try again, then some minutes later woke and the same thing happened again. This time she managed to stand, but immediately fell dizzy and clammed up with almighty strain. She eventually pulled herself together, showered and set off for her morning seminar with Professor Forster, she hoped she'd catch Ryan beforehand to discuss Saturdays trip to see the Eaton Collection.

Ella entered the Seminar and saw Paul seated at the back, his hands cradling his head. resting on the desks infront of him, he looked tired, upset even. She walked to where he was sat and slumped back into the seat next to him,

"Hey you, whats up? Rough night?" She stifled a giggle and patted him firmly on his back77

When he didn't respond she froze, had_ she done something wrong?_ If so, what? She panicked.

"Ryan? Have i um-" She choked, a lump forming in her throat.

"Shit, Ella, sorry- i must have drifted off!" he threw his hands up in surrender.

Ella laughed before puling his jacket out of her bag and handing it to him.

He hugged her appreciatively before slipping the jacket across the back of his chair.

In that instance Professor Forster entered the room, he saw their embrace and coughed rather aggressively, everyone glanced in his direction as he tried to disguise his distaste.

_Hands off her, you fucker__._


End file.
